Hard Knocks
by ackeberlynn
Summary: Bosco's family issues finally come to a head.  Set in the 3rd season after "Sex, Lies, and Videotape", but does not follow the rest of the timeline.  Major Bosco/Faith angst.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Third Watch or its characters. Wish I did.

**Author's Note**: This is just a little something that's been in my mind the past couple days.

I make many references to actual occurrences in the show, but pay little regard to the timeline. I guess I'd put this somewhere in season 3 after "Sex, Lies and Videotape", but before "The Long Guns".

The idea spawned from one of my favorite episodes, "Superheroes" when Bosco demands to know why Faith would go to Swersky to get him to talk to a counselor. She mentions his "delinquent father" as one of the reasons he should go. This story is a spin-off of that conversation, and takes place months before. However where the story ends up will probably make it completely AU.

As always, Reviews are greatly appreciated.

**Chapter 1**: Betrayal

* * *

It had been a quiet shift, thus far.

They'd only had three calls, one of which turned out to be bogus. Somebody had called about a hit and run in front of an apartment complex; but when the officers arrived, they found no victim, no witnesses, and and no evidence of a hit and run. The other two calls had been minor affairs: they'd arrested a man for public intoxication, and had investigated a report of vandalism outside of a store.

Now they were on meal break, Bosco pulling to a stop in front of his favorite burger joint.

"Aw, do we have to eat here again, Bos? It's the third time this week!" Faith whined from the passenger seat.

"What? I thought you liked this place; you never complained about it before!" Bosco retorted.

"Look, I'm just sick of eating at the same damn restaurant all the time."

He sighed. It was obvious his partner was in one of her moods again. She'd been quiet all day – quiet, distant, and irritable. He'd given her space, trying in his own way to be patient and understanding. God knows she put up with enough of his shit over the years – it was the least he could do.

"Fine. Where do _you_ want to eat?" He asked, relenting.

"I'm not hungry."

"Well, I am. So I guess we're eating here," he said, smirking at her as he cut the engine.

"Fine, I'll just wait out here," she replied stubbornly.

"Do you want some coffee or something?"

"No, don't worry about it. Go enjoy your meal," she said dismissively.

He just looked at her. "Why do you gotta do that?"

"What?"

"Guilt-trip me about eating just because you're not hungry."

He was turned in his seat to face her, waiting for an answer. She wouldn't look at him.

"Look Bos, I don't want argue with you today. Just go eat."

He sighed before getting out of the car. He couldn't win.

He came back out 20 minutes later with two brown paper bags in one hand, and balancing two cups of coffee in the other.

"I got you some stuff in case you get hungry later," he said, making it sound nonchalant, like he hadn't just gone out of his way for her despite the way she'd been treating him.

"I didn't ask you to," she said coldly.

He glanced at her, patience wearing thin. "So? I did anyway."

"I'm not gonna thank you."

"I didn't expect you to."

They barely spoke the rest of the shift.

As they were driving through night time traffic, a mere hour left on the shift, Faith finally exploded.

He'd been incredibly bored – she wasn't talking to him, and he was starting to get tired. To keep himself awake as he drove, he'd begun tapping out a rhythm on the steering wheel with his thumbs.

He nearly jumped when she yelled at him.

"Will you quit it! That is _so_ annoying! God, you're like one of my kids!"

His eyes briefly flickered with shock and hurt before his face swiftly contorted in anger.

He whipped the RMP into a nearby parking space before turning to her.

"You know, you've had a hair up your ass all day, and now it's really starting to piss me off! If I did or said something that irritated you I'm sorry, alright! But you don't have to be a bitch about it!"

His rant seemed to shake her out of her complacency, and she glanced guiltily toward the window to compose herself before turning to face him.

"I-I'm sorry, Bos. It's not you. I'm sorry I took it out on you. You didn't do or say anything."

He looked at her for a moment, letting the anger slowly drain. He absently wondered what the problem was, if it wasn't him, and felt a small stab of something mingling pity and fear.

"Did something happen with kids?" He asked suddenly.

"No, they're fine." She sniffed. She wasn't really crying, but close to it, more because of the guilt now than anything. She hadn't meant to put him through this.

He swallowed, and could not hide the fear in his next question.

"Is it the cancer?"

She whipped her head toward him, surprised.

"No, Bosco, I…that's fine. That's been fine. I'm not sick anymore." It still shocked her, how badly that had shaken him.

"You pregnant or something?" Was his next question.

She rolled her eyes. "No, Bosco, I'm not pregnant."

He threw up his hands, exasperated. "Well I'm not gonna play twenty questions all night."

"It's Fred, okay? That's what's bugging me."

"Why? What'd he do now?"

He seemed almost relieved, as if Fred wasn't that big of a deal, and that angered her.

"I'm thinking about leaving him, that's what."

"Faith…." He let out a sigh, as if he was disappointed. That pissed her off even more. Who the hell did he think he was, anyway?

"What?" She demanded. "What?"

"Look, Faith…." He held up a hand as if to placate her. "Fred ain't perfect. I know that – I mean hell, half the time I don't even like him. But he's a good guy. He's a good husband to you, and he's a good father to your kids."

She glared at him, furious. "What the hell do you know," she spat.

He shrugged, refusing to respond. He'd said his peace.

Her mouth was moving faster than her brain or her conscience, but she was so angry that she didn't bother stopping it, though she knew from experience her next words be foolish, even hurtful.

"You know, you amaze me, Bos," she began, her voice so hard and sarcastic that he turned to stare at her, curious about what she was going to say.

"You seem so compassionate out here on the job, getting all tangled up inside about the women we see stuck in abusive relationships – but when it's your own _partner_ you don't give a damn!"

He shook his head at her with something akin to pity. "Don't."

"Don't what?" She was breathless from the yelling.

"Fred isn't abusive," he said, his face twisting into something resembling disgust. At her.

"How the hell would you know?" She shouted. "You don't live with him! You of all people…."

"Don't!" He growled, suddenly in her space. "Don't you dare!" He knew what she'd been about to bring up, crossing a line in their partnership. His eyes were furious, glinting fiercely in the darkness.

It was a warning, and she knew it.

She didn't care. Her pride wouldn't allow her to stop.

"What – you gonna hit me, Bos?"

The horrible, sarcastic words were out of her mouth before she could control herself, and she suddenly felt revolted by her own ugliness.

She watched as he immediately shrank from her, wide-eyed and breathing fast – she had emasculated him with a single sentence.

She knew he would never do such a thing. She knew how it bothered him. She knew about the wounds from his childhood – wounds that would never heal.

He'd trusted her with that, and she'd used it against him in a moment of thoughtless anger.

She took in his sudden paleness, saw that he was visibly shaking, and the reality of what she'd just done to him hit her like a brick.

"Oh my god, Bosco…." Her eyes filled with tears of regret, and she covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh my god…."

Silence filled the RMP. She watched as the digital clock clicked to 11 PM. Their shift was over.

His next words were quiet – bitter.

"I think I'd know if Fred was abusive. We both know I've had a lifetime of experience with the kind of bastards who beat up women." He laughed sardonically. "Hell, it's in my DNA."

"Bosco…."

"Faith!" He held up a hand, silencing her. "I don't know if I can take anymore tonight, okay?"

He drove quietly back to the station house.

She was glad it was dark. Glad he couldn't see the tears streaking down her cheeks.

She'd messed up bad this time, and she had no clue how to make it right.

* * *

TBC….


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note**: Again, this story begins sometime after "Sex, Lies, and Videotape", but I will take it wherever, not necessarily following the traditional timeline.

(So you don't know what will happen to our beloved characters next.)

**Warning**: Mild profanity - more than what is usual for my stories

**Chapter 2**: Guilt upon Guilt

* * *

She couldn't sleep that night, lying next to Fred. The guilt plagued her.

How could she have been so cruel? Her words haunted her.

"_What – you gonna hit me, Bos?"_

It was about the lowest blow she could deal him. Bad enough that if he never spoke to her again, she'd feel like she deserved it.

She turned to stare at her sleeping husband, and the tears started again. The trouble was that Bosco was right. She was married to a good man. He wasn't perfect, but he loved her and loved their kids. She was ungrateful, and Bosco made her see it. So she wounded him. And he'd just taken it.

She silently vowed to do everything in her power to make it right.

* * *

The next morning she was surprised in roll call to learn that Bosco hadn't requested a different partner - that's what he usually did when he was angry with her.

She knew why, too. It was self-protection. He didn't want to be angry with her and have things go bad on a call.

But today he was going to ride with her. Maybe things weren't as bad between them as she'd feared.

* * *

Once in the RMP, she tried to apologize.

"Bosco, about last night…."

"I don't want to talk about it, Faith."

"But Bos…."

"Look, I know you feel guilty. Let's just forget about it."

He wouldn't look at her, and she had a sinking feeling that he was lumping her in with all the people in his life who'd hurt him with their words and then later apologized, but only to ease their own guilt.

Bosco knew the score – that's why he pissed so many people off. He didn't play games. You always knew where you stood with Bosco – it was one of the few stable aspects of his personality.

And right now Faith could tell that he didn't think she was really sorry. As if she was just apologizing to get things back to normal for her own sake. It hurt, but she couldn't blame him.

She'd have to earn his trust again, and that would take awhile.

* * *

Halfway into their shift, Faith's radio crackled. _"55-David, you're being requested by 55-Charlie to respond to a domestic disturbance at 43 and 108th."_

"They need backup for a domestic?" Bosco exclaimed incredulously.

"Yeah, but that's like ten minutes away – why are they requesting us?" Faith shook her head, her brow furrowing in confusion.

"Central, we are nowhere near that location; you'll have to request another squad." Faith called into the radio clipped to her shoulder.

"_Negative 55-David, you were specifically requested by officers on scene."_

She and Bosco shared a worried look. Anything out of the ordinary on this job usually turned out bad. This was definitely out of the ordinary.

"Central, show 55-David en-route."

* * *

They arrived on scene to see Sully standing on the curb next to 55-Charlie.

"Sully, what's going on? We were halfway across town!" Faith exclaimed as she stepped out of the RMP.

Sully didn't respond, looking instead at her partner. "Bosco."

"What? This had better be good, Sullivan."

"Bosco, we think you know the people involved in this domestic. That's why we called you in."

Bosco stared at the older man in confusion, a knot growing in his stomach. "What?"

"Is your father Anthony Boscorelli?"

Immediately Bosco's eyes narrowed into slits. "Yeah – that lowlife bastard involved in this?"

"He nearly beat a woman to death in his apartment. One of the neighbors called it in. He was drunk when we got here. Tried telling us that his son was a cop to get out of being arrested."

Bosco snorted in disgust. "Sounds like he hasn't changed much. You shouldn't have called me. I don't want nothing to do with him."

The younger officer turned to start walking away, but Sully called him back. "Bosco, that's not why we called you."

"What?" Bosco turned back impatiently.

Sully sighed, his voice tinged with regret. "The woman he beat up – it's Angela Rose Boscorelli."

Faith watched her partner's face turn to stone.

"What?" He whispered, disbelief in eyes.

"I'm sorry, man. They're upstairs working on her now."

It was then Bosco noticed the ambulance sitting out front next to the curb.

Fear gripped him, and he bolted through the doors of the building before either officer could grab him.

"How bad is it, Sul?" Faith asked softly.

Sully shook his head. "It's bad."

She sighed before turning to chase after her partner.

* * *

He didn't know what apartment it happened in. Hell, he didn't know what his mother would be doing here, at her ex-husband's apartment.

He ran on instinct, blindly stumbling down hallways until he found an open door.

There, in the middle of the room, Doc and Carlos were performing CPR on his unmoving mother.

Across the room, Davis stood next to his cuffed and obviously drunk father.

It was like his childhood all over again, only worse. Because he knew that the paramedics doing CPR meant it was serious.

"Oh my god…_mom_?" His voice was strangled as he fell on his knees next to Carlos.

"Mom?" He called again, desperately. "What wrong with her?"

"Bosco! Damn it, you need to let us work!" Carlos protested, shoving him back.

Suddenly arms were pulling him up from the floor. "Bosco, come on, let them work."

It was Faith. He shrugged her off.

Breathing heavily, his eyes suddenly fixed the man on the other side of the room with a look of murderous rage.

Davis saw it, holding a hand out as warning.

"Bosco, don't—"

Too late. The young officer was on the man in the blink of an eye, arms swinging wildly.

"You son of a bitch! You _son of a bitch_!" He raged, laying into the older man with fists of fury.

He vaguely heard shouting, felt hands grabbing at his coat, his arms. But he had tunnel vision, and all he could see was the man being pummeled under his fists.

Someone finally got a good grip on him, and he was suddenly screaming incoherently, consumed with a lifetime of rage and pain. He was completely out of control, kicking out with his feet, struggling violently to get free.

"Bosco, you need to _calm the hell down_!" Sully managed to yell over him. The older officer had Bosco's arms locked up in a nelson grip, and Davis had a hand on his heaving chest, standing between him and the man who'd beat his mother.

Faith stood next to his fallen mother, staring at him from across the room with such empathy that he had to look away. She had tears running down her cheeks.

He looked down at his where his mother lay, still being stabilized by the medics, and nearly went limp in Sully's arms. All the fight left him as he realized the reality of the situation.

"If you killed her…if she dies…." He said breathlessly, glaring at the man he hated.

That's when he heard the man chuckling.

"Maurice, you always were a pussy," the senior Boscorelli spat, his mouth full of blood.

"Davis, get him out of here!" Sully yelled angrily as Bosco tried unsuccessfully to lunge out of his grip.

"Bet you've been waiting years to get the drop on me, huh? Like father like son," the man sneered, deliberately struggling with Davis so he could stay and egg on his son.

"Shut up," Davis warned shoving the older man into the wall. "If you know what's good for you, you'll shut up!"

It didn't even phase the man.

"You're a big tough cop now, huh? Did you tell them, Maurice? Did you tell them how you used to cry like a baby? Do they know that you're afraid of the dark? Huh?"

Bosco suddenly seemed to wilt in Sully's arms, sinking to floor.

It was then that Faith stepped in.

As hard as she could, she kneed the elder Boscorelli in the groin, causing him to howl with pain. Yanking him from Davis' grasp, she leaned close to his ear, pronouncing every word with effort, barely holding her disgust in check.

"Anthony Boscorelli, you are being charged with assault, battery, and resisting arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you can't afford one, one will be provided for you by the state. Do you understand your rights, you sick son of a bitch?"

He nodded, too in pain to answer verbally. "Good. Davis, get this trash out of here."

She went to stand by her partner, whom Sully had finally let go of. He was knelt on the floor, hands on his knees, hunched over and gasping for breath.

Hesitantly, she placed a hand on his back.

"Is she gonna be alright?" She asked Doc as they prepared to move Bosco's mother.

The paramedic shot a sympathetic glance at her partner. "I don't know."

* * *

As they sat in the hospital's waiting room, Faith tried to get her partner to talk.

"How's your hand?"

He ignored her.

"You should really have somebody look at that."

Silence.

"That was pretty crazy, huh?" She tried again, swallowing.

Nothing. She gave up.

When he finally spoke some time later, his voice was so soft she almost missed it.

"I wish he was dead."

She sighed, moving to sit closer to him. "I'm sorry, Bos."

"Does Fred hit you?"

She froze, stunned by his words and the sudden shift in conversation topic.

"What?"

"Does he hit you?" He didn't make eye contact, just stared at the floor.

"No. He doesn't. And he never has. He's not that kind of man."

"See with my old man…he was always a violent drunk." Bosco said, eyes distant.

"He never hit me. Not even drunk. He's never laid a hand on me or the kids," she assured him.

"If you want to leave him…if you're that unhappy…then you gotta do what you gotta to do. I'm not anyone who should be telling you whether to stay or not."

"Bosco, I'm sorry about what I said. I was wrong."

He continued as if he didn't hear her. "Problem is that I think anybody who's better than my old man is a saint. But he's jag-off, so…that's not saying much."

"No Bos, you read people pretty good – it's what makes you a good cop."

Her compliment fell on deaf ears.

He was lost somewhere inside of himself, not seeing her or the hospital walls.

"I used to want my mom to stay with him. I'd tell her to give him another chance...get mad at her whenever she kicked him out. And then...I used to let him in my bedroom window, thinking every time that'd it be different. But he'd always push past me to get to her. Sometimes...sometimes I think if I hadn't pushed so hard for them to stay together, he wouldn't have beat her so much. 'Cause she would've left."

"You were just a kid," Faith said softly.

"But I never learned my lesson, did I?" he replied, referring to their earlier conversation.

"No Bos, listen to me - I was wrong. Fred is a good man. You helped me see that."

He shook his head, looking down at his hands.

"Why'd she go back to him?" He said, changing the conversation again. "Why'd she go back to that bastard?"

Faith sniffed, trying to be strong for her broken partner. "I don't know, Bos. I wish I knew. Maybe…maybe she's just lonely."

He nods, absently. "I don't know what I'd do without her."

"Hey. Don't think like that – you don't' know what's going to happen."

He shot her pointed look.

"You saw her. It looked bad."

She didn't know what to say to that. Her mouth was dry with regret, wishing she'd never plagued him with yesterday's conversation. Wishing today had never happened.

Her heart ached for her partner.

* * *

The hours ticked passed, and her partner had finally fallen into a restless doze in the chair next to her.

She watched him as he slept, trying to imagine what he looked like as a little boy.

She couldn't fathom growing up with such an evil man as Anthony Boscorelli – and the things he'd said to her partner – she couldn't imagine growing up with that.

A memory surfaced, something Bosco had said to her not too long ago.

They'd been called to the scene of a woman threatening to jump off a building. They – well, _she_ – hadn't been able to talk her down. Later in the RMP she'd mused about how someone could get so "damaged," and Bosco had responded in his usually callous way, saying, "she should take a number." Faith just shot him a glare and said, "Oh what, you're damaged?" sarcastically.

But he was, whether he wanted to admit it or not. He was damaged. And she always wanted to fix him. It was a game that never got old – a tune neither of them was fully aware they were dancing to.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Davis' quiet voice. "How's he doing?"

She hadn't even heard Davis and Sully enter the room.

"About as well as can be expected," she replied, keeping her voice down.

"It's a shame," Sully commented, staring down at Bosco sympathetically. "It's a damn shame."

"How's his mom doing?" Davis asked.

"We don't know anything yet," said Faith. "Listen guys…thanks for coming. And thanks, you know…for what you did back there at the scene."

"Yeah," Sully grunted. "What a mess that was, huh?"

They stopped talking when Bosco suddenly shifted, sitting up straighter in his seat and rubbing his face with his hands.

"Doctor come yet?" He asked, his voice rough and slurred from sleep.

"No, not yet," Faith answered quickly.

Bosco looked up at Sully and Davis. "What're you two doing here?"

"Thought we'd stop by and see how you were doing. Plus we need to follow up on what happened to your mom for the report, you know…." Davis answered, trailing off at the end and looking guiltily down at the floor.

"We're really sorry about what happened, Bosco. If there's anything we can do…." Sully began.

"Nothing you can do," Bosco said firmly, shaking his head. He didn't want their pity.

Suddenly all heads swiveled to the doorway, where a doctor had finally come to give them the news.

"Family for Angela Boscorelli?"

"Rose…she goes by Rose," Bosco quickly corrected, rising to his feet.

The doctor smiled faintly. "Rose it is. Uhm…would you like to talk someplace more private?"

Bosco shifted his weight to the other foot nervously. He was too superstitious…his mind gripped with the sudden, irrational thought that the doctor _couldn't_ give him bad news in a more public place like this, in front of his friends.

"No, anything you got to say, just say it."

The doctor began speaking, but Bosco zoned out through the talk about multiple rib fractures, punctured lungs, and a concussion.

"Thankfully none of those injuries are life-threatening," the doctor said.

"So…she's gonna be okay?" Bosco asked, hating how his voice sounded so timid.

"Well, unfortunately your mother has an underlying medical condition that has been causing problems. Were you aware that she has Coronary Heart Disease?"

"What?" Bosco stared at the doctor in disbelief.

"Your mother suffered a heart attack, we think in connection to the beating she sustained, but it was really only a matter of time. We ran some tests, the results of which show she is in the advanced stages of the disease."

"What are you saying?"

"Your mother's heart is failing her. It has been for a long time. And in her weakened condition…"

Bosco suddenly had a hold of the front of the doctor's coat, pressing him up against the wall.

"What, are you saying she's dying?" He hissed, his desperate, enraged face inches from the doctor's.

"Bosco, get off!" It was the second time that day Sully and Davis had to pull him off of someone.

The doctor, to his credit, seemed unruffled by the outburst.

He sighed. "We don't expect her to make it through the night. We've made her comfortable. That's all we can do at this point. She's in room 12. I'm sorry." And with that, he left them.

Bosco felt numb. The world was collapsing around him like a house of cards. Vaguely, he heard Faith call his name, felt her hand on his arm.

"Stupid doctors," he said finally, turning to look at his friends. "What do they know, huh? That jag-off doesn't know anything. She's…she's gonna be fine."

"Bosco…." Sully said, shaking his head sadly and suddenly finding great interest in the floor.

"What? She's gonna be fine!"

Faith tearfully reached out for him, but he pulled away violently. "Come on, Faith! She's gonna be fine, alright? She's…she's…."

Suddenly, he couldn't lie to himself anymore.

Turning quickly to hide the burning tears, he grabbed the arms of a nearby chair for support. Hunched over, he began to hyperventilate with the effort to hold back his emotions, unable to control the gasping sounds his body made.

Faith quickly moved in front of him, reaching out for his face. "Bos…Oh, Bos…."

Slowly, hesitantly, she put her arms around him. Blindly, he latched onto her jacket, holding on for dear life, a few tears falling silently onto her shoulder.

"S-she's gotta be alright, Faith. She's gotta be alright..." he mumbled, sounding dazed.

"Shhhh…it's gonna be okay, Bos. It's gonna be alright."

She glanced up at the two other officers still standing in the room, trying awkwardly not to stare. Bosco wouldn't want them to see him like this.

Sully immediately read the message in her eyes, and he and Davis left the room quickly, almost soundlessly.

Faith rocked Bosco like she would one of her children, wishing she could take away the pain that now consumed him.

After a few minutes, his breathing calmed, and he pushed away from her.

"I gotta see her, Faith…I gotta see her," he whispered, roughly wiping his face on his sleeve.

"Okay. You want me to go with you?" Faith asked.

He wouldn't meet her eyes, just nodded.

She kept a hand on his arm as they walked down the hall to room 12. He stopped outside the door, almost afraid to go in.

"Faith what if she's already…I don't want to see her…I don't want to see her when she…."

He was afraid to watch his mother die. She couldn't blame him.

"You want me to come in with you?" She asked.

He stilled abruptly, reaching for the door handle, and she took his silence as acceptance, quietly following him into the room.

A nurse was inside fiddling with machines, and gave them a small, sad smile.

"She doesn't have long," she whispered before leaving. "You can go ahead and say goodbye."

Bosco looked to be in a daze as he slumped into the chair next to his mother's bed.

Her face was lined and covered with bruises, but she looked peaceful enough.

Choking back tears, Bosco reached for her hand. His eyes never left her face, memorizing every angle, every wrinkle.

"Ma..." He swallowed, desperately trying to compose himself. "Ma…I'm here. I'm here."

Words seemed to escape him. What should he say?

He sat quietly for a few moments, stroking her hand. If only she would wake up, he could tell her how sorry he was...

"Ma…I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry...I couldn't protect you from him. Ma…please don't leave me," he whispered urgently, leaning close to her body, willing her to open her eyes, to be okay.

He heard a sniffle behind him, and knew Faith was crying.

He tried again, hoping in vain that she would open her eyes. "I love you, Ma. Please wake up. Just…just open your eyes, okay, Ma? Please? Don't leave me."

He laid his head down on her arm, reaching a hand up to rest on the side of her head. He watched her for what seemed like hours, allowing himself to believe she was only sleeping, letting the steady whooshes and beeps of the machinery calm his anxiety.

In his grief he hardly registered the sudden change in the room, but suddenly monitors were blaring and nurses were rushing in to check vitals.

He jerked away from the bed, wide-eyed and pale.

Faith put a hand his shoulder just as one nurse looked up at the clock. "She's gone. Log the time."

Bosco stared. "What's…what's that mean…is she…?"

"I'm sorry. She's passed," the nurse said quietly as another began unhooking machines.

Bosco let out a long breath, nodding in resignation.

"Bos…are you okay?" Faith asked, her voice wavering with tears.

He didn't acknowledge her, just stood and walked out of the room.

He stood out in the hallway for a few moments, before picking up a nearby chair and throwing it into a wall. It was too well-built to break, and it left him unsatisfied.

In a vain attempt to calm himself, he put both hands on his head and tugged at his hair. It was no use. There was only one thing left to do.

Nurses and doctors came running to investigate the commotion, but he brushed past them all.

"Bosco!" Faith was running after him.

"Where is he? _Where is he_, Davis?" He screamed at the officer who'd been standing near the reception desk, grabbing him roughly by the jacket.

"He's in a cell back at the house!" Davis shouted back. Roughly Bosco released him, stalking toward the exit.

"Look, if you're going back there, one of us is driving!" Davis called after him.

Bosco didn't object. "I'll be in the RMP," he replied, walking out the bay doors.

"I don't like this," Sully muttered as Faith caught up to them. "He's too unstable."

"What, do you think he'd do something stupid?" Davis asked.

"Hell, wouldn't you?" was Sully's response.

They both looked at Faith, who looked a little lost. "I don't know, guys. I don't know anymore."

If Bosco was out for blood, she didn't know if she had the heart to stop him this time.

* * *

TBC….

**A/N**: Reviews please!


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note**: This chapter came pouring out with unusual intensity.

A huge thank you to my reviewers – you inspire me.

**Disclaimer**: I claim nothing but the plot.

A warning for mild foul language.

**Chapter 3**: Unbridled

* * *

"I had the idea that the world's so full of pain, it must sometimes make a kind of singing." - _Faint Music_, a poem by Robert Hauss

* * *

"No one laughs at God  
On the day they realize that the last sight they'll ever see,  
Is a pair of hateful eyes  
No one's laughing at God  
When they're saying their goodbyes..."

-Regina Spektor, "Laughing With"

* * *

As a condition for getting a ride back to the station rather than straight home, Sully made Bosco hand over his service piece.

Bosco did so willingly and without argument.

"Don't forget the one in your ankle holster," Faith had added quietly, knowingly.

She chose to ignore the smoldering glare he gave her as reluctantly handed Sully his second gun.

"Bosco, you're not gonna do anything stupid, right, man?" Davis had asked worriedly.

Mouth turned down in a pronounced frown, Bosco shook his head.

"I don't plan on doing anything stupid, Davis."

It was the cold, emotionless way he said it, coupled with the abnormally dangerous look in his eyes that filled Faith with dread.

She didn't say another word as they rode through the city, she just prayed silently.

* * *

No sooner did the RMP come to a stop outside of the stationhouse, than Bosco was already out of the car and heading toward the steps.

He'd jumped out before Sully could even shift into Park.

"Bosco…Bosco, this is a bad idea!" Faith called as she ran after her partner.

He was a man on a mission, completely oblivious to her words as she chased him down, with Sully and Davis close on her heels.

"Bosco…please, just stop a minute! Look, can we just talk?"

He was just about to reach for the precinct door when she caught up with him, reaching out and gripping his arm at the elbow.

"Hey –"

She was unprepared for his reaction as he violently jerked away.

"_G-d damn it_, Faith! Stay out of it!" He yelled, his body quivering with rage.

She was not used to such anger being directed toward her, and it shook her deeply.

"I…I just…."

"Leave me _alone_! I don't want you near me right now! Just leave me the hell alone," he hissed, chest heaving, each sentence issued with vehemence usually reserved for the vilest of criminals.

She let him go and remained on the steps, fighting tears, as he stormed into the stationhouse.

Davis and Sully hung back, watching the exchange with morbid fascination mingled with shock.

"You okay?" Sully asked in a low tone.

Faith just nodded, sniffing. "I think I deserved that," she admitted quietly.

"Hey guys, we gotta go after him," Davis interjected quickly, hurrying inside the precinct.

* * *

Once inside, they could already hear angry shouts coming from the holding cells.

Lieu looked up with a startled frown as the three officers burst in the door.

"Boss, we need you," Davis called, taking off in a dead-run down the hall.

When they arrived, nothing could have prepared them what they saw, and they froze with shock.

Seconds before, Bosco had strode into the holding area, where an officer sat doing paperwork. In one lightning speed move, he reached down and unholstered the officer's gun, jerking it up and immediately pointing it toward the cells.

A shouting match ensued as prisoners swore and yelled out in protest.

"What the hell?"

"This dude's crazy!"

"_Shut up!_ All of you shut up! Step away from the man in the brown jacket – _I said step away!_" Bosco screamed over their exclamations of shock and fear.

He was backed up against the wall, gaze darting frantically back and forth between the object of his wrath and the officer in front of him.

The officer had his hands out in a gesture of non-violence.

"Hey, man I don't know what's going on here, but you need to put the gun down, okay? That's my gun, man. Put it down."

Bosco just stared at him, ignoring the other officers now crowding the hallway to investigate the commotion. "Look, this doesn't involve you, Richardson. Leave."

"I can't do that, man. You know I can't do that, Bosco."

"I'm not gonna ask you again, Richardson," Bosco replied, eyes glinting dangerously.

"Get. Out."

"Officer Richardson – step outside. Let me handle this," an obviously pissed Lt. Swersky ordered, pushing through the crowd to enter the holding area.

"I want this hallway blocked off – no one else is allowed back here!" The Lieutenant yelled, as officers scrambling to obey his command.

"_I'm_ handling this! No one else is to interfere!"

After a few more minutes, the crowd thinned considerably, and Officer Richardson quickly exited the area, leaving Bosco and Swersky standing alone.

Only Faith, Sully, Davis, and a handful of other officers remained, watching the unnerving standoff from the hallway, riveted in disbelief.

The four other prisoners in the cells had already moved away from Anthony Boscorelli to stand against the opposite wall, eyes never leaving the man with the gun.

The elder Boscorelli stood alone in the center of the cell, staring with shock and trepidation down the barrel of the pistol pointed at him by his son.

The room had fallen suddenly and uncharacteristically silent; the only sound heard being the ragged gasps emitted from the man holding the gun.

"Bosco…you shoot this man and you throw away your entire career," Swersky warned angrily, mistaking the scene for another one of the officer's infamous temper tantrums.

"I don't care…I don't care anymore," Bosco muttered anxiously through grit teeth, tightening his grip on the weapon in his hand.

His words and demeanor momentarily stunned the Lieutenant, who took a step back to really look at the man before him.

Bosco was sweating, his entire frame shaking so bad that he could barely hold steady the weapon in his hands. His chest was heaving with exertion, anxiety, and what must have been a vain attempt at self-control.

It was the eyes that struck Lieu hard, though. Bosco's eyes were impossibly wide and glazed over, and when he caught the younger man's gaze he recognized the unmistakable pain of intense sorrow reflected in their depths.

No, this was not normal – this was something horrible and gut-wrenching and very, very real.

Swersky tried again, this time pitching his tone lower, softer.

"Bosco…whatever he did, shooting him isn't going to help."

"I don't want to shoot him," Bosco corrected, sounding distant. "I want to kill him."

Chills ran down Swersky's spine at the admission, but he quickly composed himself.

"Why? What did he do?"

The younger man shook his head slowly. "He killed her."

"Killed who?"

"My mother," Bosco replied, voice cracking on the word.

Swersky's eyes widened. He'd met the woman a couple of times.

"Rose was murdered?"

"She…she died?" The senior Boscorelli suddenly asked, horrified. "Oh my god…oh my god…what have I done?"

"Don't you dare…_don't you dare_! You haven't felt sorry _once_ in twenty years, you're not gonna start now that she's dead!"

"I…I didn't mean to…Maurice. I have a problem…I didn't mean to…." The older man was sobbing now. "I-I was drunk…I didn't mean to….."

"You son of a bitch," Bosco whispered through clenched teeth, shaking his head and pulling back the hammer of the gun.

"Boscorelli…." Lieu barked, holding out a hand as if to stop the younger man.

"No more excuses…_no more damn excuses_!" Bosco choked out, baring his teeth.

"P-please…Maurice. I'm sorry…I really am," Anthony Boscorelli was begging now, pleading.

"Sorry, sorry…you're always sorry…but you never stopped," Bosco spat hoarsely, lip curling in a disgusted snarl.

"Never stopped what, Bosco?" Swersky asked urgently, trying to shift the man's focus and gain control of a rapidly deteriorating situation.

Bosco glanced at him briefly. With a grimacing smile, he bobbed his head marginally at the man standing behind the bars.

"Go 'head, _dad_…go 'head and tell him what you did…what you _do_."

Swersky suddenly sucked in a breath, his brain wracking to put together the pieces of a tragic puzzle. His chest clenched briefly in empathy for the young man before him, as the truth dawned on him with sickening clarity.

"This man is your _father_?"

Bosco shook his head. When he spoke again, his voice was devoid of emotion.

"No…'cause a father doesn't beat to death the mother of his kids."

He swallowed convulsively, then blinked, steadying his aim once more.

"I _have_ to do this, Boss," he insisted, and his voice took on a warning tone.

"Why?" Lieu demanded. "What good will it bring?"

"He doesn't deserve to live," Bosco responded, deliberately dodging the question.

"If you kill him, he'll get away with it. He'll never be held accountable for his actions."

At this, the younger man let out a frustrated sob, blinking back tears as he anxiously shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"I couldn't protect her…but I can do this…should've done this a long time ago…."

Swersky could tell the normally tough-as-nails cop was breaking, was already broken, and it was suddenly hard to watch.

His heart lodged in his throat, the Lieutenant made his final appeal.

"Bosco…your mother wouldn't want you to throw away your life for this," he said, watching as the younger man closed his eyes in grief.

"His life is over," he continued, pointing at the man in the cell. "He's gonna spend the rest of his life behind bars, paying for what he did. It's what Rose would want."

Bosco exhaled loudly, reaching his free hand up to cover his eyes, tears now flowing freely down quivering cheeks.

"Hand me the gun, son," Swersky instructed gently, stepping closer to the trembling man.

"It's what she would want," he added, waiting patiently as Bosco used his thumb to disengage the hammer on the weapon, slowly lowering his arm to his side.

"God I'm sorry, Lieu," he whispered, voice barely audible now, hand still covering his eyes.

"It's okay," Swersky replied, placing a comforting hand on the younger man's shoulder while simultaneously taking the gun out of his limp grasp.

"It's going to be okay."

Wordlessly, he handed the gun behind his back to Sully, who then turned it over to Richardson.

"I don't care what strings you have to pull – get them out of here and down to central booking immediately," he added quietly, inclining his head toward the cells.

Swiftly Davis, Sully, and other officers moved forward to escort Anthony Boscorelli and the four other prisoners out of the holding area.

Still, no one said a word, the room silent save for the clicking and clanging of metal chains, and the rustling of cloth against cloth.

Minutes later, the only people still standing in the area were Bosco, the Lieutenant, and Faith.

Swersky's hand had never left Bosco's shoulder, and the younger officer had yet to look up or remove the hand covering his face.

"Bosco? It's over."

Finally, the hand lowered, and tear filled eyes glanced up to meet his superior's.

"I'm - I'm sorry…Boss, I don't know what got into me, I…."

"It's okay," the older man insisted. No judgments. No reservations. Just understanding.

"I'm sso…I'm sso…." Bosco gasped, unable to get the words out as his face crumpled and he dissolved into tears.

Swersky had to bite his lip to keep his own emotions in check as he pulled the distraught man to his chest.

Glancing over at Faith, he could barely decipher her silently mouthed "thank you" through the tears of relief that streamed down her face.

For now, a crisis had been averted.

But Faith knew it was far from being over.

_TBC_...


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note**: This chapter was hard to write, but also very rewarding once I finished.

This chapter has a little bit of everyone - Faith, Swersky, Sully, Davis, Michael Boscorelli and of course, our beloved Bosco. Enjoy. :)

As always, thanks to my faithful reviewers.

P.S., if you've never listened to the Goo Goo Dolls, you're missing out on a great thing.

**Chapter 4**: Pain

* * *

"Now we're grown-up orphans, that never knew their names;

We don't belong to no one, that's a shame..."

-Goo Goo Dolls

* * *

The silence was deafening inside of Lieutenant Swersky's office.

He'd quickly escorted a subdued Bosco there after the scene in the holding area, and Faith had followed.

Bosco slumped into a chair, eyes staring vacantly at the opposing wall, while Swersky busied himself around the room until the blinds on every window were closed.

Inwardly Faith was relieved that their boss understood Bosco needed privacy right now after his very emotional, very public loss of control.

"Stay here," he had ordered finally, glancing at Faith once before slamming the door shut behind him.

In the sudden quiet of the room, she stood staring at her partner, her back resting against the wall.

After a few minutes she let out a soft, weary sigh. It had been a horrible day – she couldn't imagine what Bosco was feeling.

What was going through his mind right now?

He just sat limply in the metal chair, arms lying loosely in his lap, chin tipped slightly toward his chest. To see him sitting there so still and quiet unnerved her even more than his meltdown had just minutes ago.

He was hurting, and she didn't know how to reach him.

"Bosco?" She tried timidly.

He exhaled harshly before responding.

"Yeah, Faith?"

"Is there anything I can get you?" She swallowed. "Maybe coffee or something?"

His head shook almost imperceptibly. "No."

"Okay…if you need—"

Her words were abruptly cut short by Swersky's return.

He slammed the door behind him, then slowly walked up to the younger man and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Boscorelli…are you alright? Is there anybody you want me to call?"

"I'm okay, Boss." Bosco remained stoic, refusing to make eye contact.

Swersky sighed, removing his hand.

"It's a hell of mess I'm going to have to clean up because of you," he began, moving to stand with arms crossed in front of the younger officer.

"I know, Boss. I'm sorry."

"I want an explanation. What the hell was that?"

Bosco clenched his jaw, lowering his gaze to the floor.

"It's been a long day, Lieu…" Faith cut in, trying to help her partner.

"Yokas – I want to hear it from him," Swersky replied. He leaned back to sit on the desk behind him, arms still crossed, and returned his inquiring gaze to the officer in front of him.

"I lost my temper, Lieu. There's no excuse. I take full responsibility," Bosco said, almost mechanically.

"You took another officer's service piece and threatened to shoot an unarmed man in a holding cell! I think that was more than just a loss of temper, Bosco!" Swersky replied, his tone rising again in anger.

"I don't _ever_ want to see anything like that in my house again, do you understand me?"

"Yes sir."

"You're a police officer, not a vigilante!"

"Yes sir."

"You do know that procedure requires me to suspend you without pay, and report you to IAB for professional misconduct?" Lieu continued.

"We're talking about a command discipline, a psych evaluation, possible termination…are you hearing me, Boscorelli?"

"I'll take whatever I got comin'," Bosco replied, his voice firm.

"I know you, Boscorelli," Swersky countered. "I know how much this job means to you. You're one of my best officers. I _need_ you out there, and if your temper gets you kicked off the job, that puts me in a bad position. You were _this close_ to being kicked off the force today with that stunt you pulled!"

Bosco didn't respond verbally, but Swersky could tell by the twitching muscle in the younger officer's jaw that he was listening.

Swersky paused, studying the man in front of him for a moment before speaking in a softer tone.

"I know you just lost your mother. And that's the _only_ reason I'm going to cover for you. But you owe me, Boscorelli. I'd better not hear one negative report about you for the next six months. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. Now, I want you to take some time off."

"No, Boss –

"At least three days, Boscorelli. With pay. No arguments. After that you're on desk duty for at least a week, until I think that you're fit to be out on the street again."

"Yes sir."

"Alright. Both of you are dismissed. Go home."

Bosco stood to leave, and Faith quickly followed.

"Boscorelli," Swersky called out just as Bosco reached for the doorknob.

"Yeah, Boss?"

"I'm sorry about your mother. If there's anything you need…anything at all, you let me know."

Bosco just nodded, his throat tight, before opening the door and slowly walking out into the hall.

"Hey, Yokas," Swersky called out again, his voice quieter this time. She looked up at him expectantly from the doorway, reluctantly lingering behind when all she wanted was to catch up with her partner.

"Is he going to be okay?" asked Swersky, the concern evident in his facial features.

"His father just beat his mother to death, Lieu. I don't know."

"You'll keep an eye on him?"

She looked away briefly. "He's been shutting me out. I don't know what to say to him."

"Sometimes you don't have to say anything. Just be there."

Faith looked up at her superior and gave a small, grateful smile.

"Thanks, Lieu."

"You don't have to thank me. Just go find your partner."

* * *

She found him sitting on the bench in the locker room, staring blankly in front of him.

Quietly, she walked up to him, leaning casually against one of the lockers.

"Bos? How're you doing?"

"How do you think I'm doin', Faith?" he retorted snidely.

"Yeah…I guess that's a stupid question, huh?" She replied, refusing to be deterred by his demeanor. "So what are you going to do now?"

He cocked his head to the side irritably, staring straight ahead as he stood and opened his locker.

"I'm gonna get changed Faith," he answered coldly. "D'you mind?"

Wordlessly she nodded, then walked over to her own locker to change, having already made up her mind that she wasn't going to leave him alone tonight.

Bosco had finished changing and was just slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder, simultaneously slamming his locker shut, when Sully entered the room.

"Hey Bosco," he called loudly.

Bosco sighed. "What, Sullivan?"

"Your brother's here looking for you."

Faith whipped her head around to watch Bosco's reaction. He'd paled considerably, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

"Mikey?" he whispered, swallowing convulsively. "Mikey's here?"

"Yeah, he's waiting downstairs."

"Does he…does he know?"

Sully shook his head. "I don't think so. He doesn't seem upset or anything."

Letting the bag slip off of his shoulder and onto the floor, Bosco slowly lowered himself down on the edge of the bench.

Exhaling loudly, he brought a hand up and rubbed his forehead.

"What do you want me to tell him?" Sully asked quietly.

"Just…just tell him I'm changing and I'll be down in a minute," Bosco replied softly.

As the door closed behind Sully, Faith shut her own locker and went to stand next to Bosco's hunched form. She could almost feel the exhaustion emanating from his body.

"I forgot about him, Faith. What the hell kind of brother am I? I shoulda called him back at the hospital."

"Bosco, it's okay," Faith replied. She didn't know what else to say.

"No, it's not Faith. It's not okay," he objected, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and rubbing his hands together anxiously.

"What the hell am I supposed to say to him? How the hell am I supposed to…to explain this?"

She didn't have the answers to his questions.

"You want me come with you?"

He blew out a breath slowly, then shook his head.

"No. It's a family thing, Faith…it's…I gotta do this alone."

He looked up at her then, noting the sadness in her eyes. All she wanted to do was help him. The last thing he wanted was her to think he was ungrateful for the concern.

"I appreciate it, though…you know? You bein' there."

She nodded hastily, looking away so he wouldn't see the tears misting her green eyes.

"How about I stop by your place tomorrow before work, huh? I – I'll bring that Chinese chicken you like," she offered. "We can have lunch together."

He wanted desperately to turn her down, but felt the need to appease her. She was trying so hard.

"If it'd make you feel better…sure."

She gave him a tiny smile. "Okay. Call me if you need anything?"

As she spoke, she reached out to brush the back of her hand lightly against his cheek. It was the smallest of touches, but her heart broke in two at his reaction. Instead of flinching or jerking away, he froze, clenched his eyes shut, and inhaled sharply, almost painfully. When his eyes opened seconds later, they were suspiciously bright.

"I gotta go," he forced out, standing abruptly and grabbing his bag.

She said nothing as he pushed past her, and remained standing in the middle of the locker room, fighting tears long after he'd gone.

* * *

"Boss, have you seen my brother?" Bosco asked Swersky, who was on the phone behind the front desk.

"Yeah, I think he's waiting outside."

"Thanks Boss," Bosco rapped knuckles once against the wooden desk, then headed out into the chilly night.

Michael was sitting at the bottom of the precinct steps, his back toward him.

Bosco walked slowly down the steps until he was standing next to his brother.

"Mikey," he breathed out, eyes closing in dreaded anticipation of the tragic news he'd have to share.

The younger man jumped up, immediately on the defensive.

"Look, Mo, I don't need a lecture from you. I'm just here to bail him out, that's all."

Bosco's face scrunched up in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"Word on the street is that you locked the old man up. I'm here to bail him out. So just tell me where he is and what I gotta do, and I'll be outta your hair."

Bosco was almost physically sick with the rage boiling suddenly in his gut. It was only the knowledge that his brother had no idea what had transpired earlier that day that kept him from losing control.

"Mikey…you don't even know what he did."

"Does it matter? It's called family loyalty, Mo. Something you don't know nothing about." Micheal retorted angrily, his entire posture screaming defiance.

Letting out a long-suffering sigh, Bosco reached for his brother's arm.

"Look Mikey, there's something I gotta tell you. Something's happened…."

Noticing the troubled look on his brother's face for the first time, Michael took a step back.

"What? What's going on, Mo?" He demanded as Bosco led him away from the building and over to where his Mustang was parked along the street.

When they reached the car, Michael pulled away roughly. "What the hell's going on?"

"Look. Mikey…I don't know how to tell you this, but – something's happened to mom."

"What?" Michael breathed out, growing fearful of the devastation reflected in his brother's eyes.

"I was called to the scene of a domestic earlier today. A woman got beat up real bad…it was mom."

Michael's eyes grew wide with fear and anger.

"What? W-why the hell didn't you call me? Is she alright? Jesus, Mo – you shoulda called me!"

Bosco hung his head in shame, his voice rough with emotion.

"I know, I know. Mikey…it just all happened so fast…"

"How is she? Are we going to the hospital, or what? I want to see her, Mo!" Michael demanded.

"Mikey…Mikey…" Bosco grabbed hold of his little brother's shoulders and shook him slightly. "We're not going to the hospital."

"Well, what…was she released already?" Michael asked, and the desperate hope in eyes felt like a knife in Bosco's gut.

"No, Mikey. She's gone. She's gone, Mikey. She didn't make it," he explained, hot tears welling in his eyes. "Her injuries were too severe."

Michael processed this information, shock evident on his face. He pulled away and scrubbed at his hair with his hands.

"Jesus…" He whispered, then turned around again to face his brother.

"Does dad know?"

Bosco almost laughed at the irony in his brother's words. Poor Mikey. He'd always stuck up for their dad in the vain, desperate hope that the man would show him any kind of love or attention.

His idealistic dreams were about to irrevocably shattered.

Bosco's silence, coupled with the wry smirk on his face, infuriated Michael.

"What, you didn't tell him? Mo! How could you be so heartless, man?"

Bosco's hand shot out before he could stop it, and roughly latched on to Michael's coat.

"Heartless? _Heartless?_" He hissed. "He _beat_ her, Michael! He beat her, and this time her heart gave out and she died! You still gonna defend him?"

"Come on, dad wouldn't –"

He was cut off as Bosco violently yanked him forward, then shoved him up against the side of the car.

"_I was there, Michael!"_ Bosco screamed in his brother's face, the tears spilling over and down his cheeks. "I watched the paramedics give her CPR while dad sat across the room in handcuffs!"

"He was drunk, and he beat her to death! Do you understand?"

"Get off me!" Michael shouted, shoving his older brother back.

The brothers stood staring at each other for a moment, both breathing heavily.

Michael watched as Bosco reached up to wipe the tears off of his face with trembling hands. He looked like hell, and somewhere deep down Michael knew that he should be comforting him now. They should be comforting each other.

But it was too horrible and painful to accept. And he felt his heart harden in that moment.

"Do you know for sure that he did it, or were you so desperate to get back at him that you just locked him up?" Michael spat, surprised when an almost detached feeling of satisfaction washed over him.

He wanted to hurt someone like he was hurting. So lashed out at his brother. And damn, it felt good.

Bosco's eyes flashed with shock and anger.

"Mikey…you better back off what you're saying right now."

"What? What are you gonna do that could possible hurt me more than you have already?"

"Mikey…I'm sorry I didn't call you, alright?"

"No, you're not. You're just saying that to try and make me feel better. You're not really sorry."

He saw the hurt cross his brother's features, then went in for the kill.

"How long ago did it happen, Mo? How long were you with her in the hospital? Huh? How much time did you get to spend with her before she died? Time that I didn't have, because you didn't call me!"

He paused, stepping forward and giving Bosco a shove backward.

"I had to find out from the street that dad was locked up. Hell, I probably wouldn't have found out that mom was dead if I hadn't come down here tonight, would I?"

"Mikey, please…." Bosco whispered brokenly.

"Did you ever think that maybe she'd want both her sons to be there? Huh? Or were you just being selfish?" He shook his head in disgust. "You don't give a damn about our family."

Bosco was in his face in an instant. "Don't you dare say that!"

"Get outta my face, Maurice," Michael warned, hands clenched into fists.

"She died this afternoon. And you wanna know why I didn't call you?" Bosco retorted, chest heaving with rage.

"When's the last time you visited her, Mikey? Hm? Scratch that – when's the last time you had a conversation with her when you weren't stoned out of your mind?"

His voice lowered to a growl. "I didn't call you because I figured you'd rather be hiding out in some bathroom snortin' a line than being a man and standing next to your dying mother's hospital bed."

The words had spewed out of his mouth like fire, and Michael stared at him in shock for only a second before pulling his arm back and punching Bosco in the jaw.

Taken off guard, Bosco stumbled back a few steps, his body now coiled with rage.

"You son of a…" he hissed, his fist flying into his younger brother's mouth.

Michael became instantly enraged, slamming himself headlong into his brother's body.

They fell to the ground together, and within seconds, it was an all-out brawl. The brothers were rolling on the ground, punching and kicking and cursing loudly in the street next to Bosco's Mustang.

Sully and Davis happened to be walking out of the precinct at the time, and were alerted to the sound of the scuffle.

"What the hell?" Sully exclaimed.

"Is that Bosco?" Davis wondered aloud, as they began hurrying toward the fight.

At the same time, Bosco viciously bucked Michael off of his torso, his body tumbling out into the middle of the street.

Bosco rolled to his knees and squinted into the bright headlights of a car.

His brother still lay on his stomach in the middle of the street – directly in the path of the oncoming vehicle.

* * *

"Oh, no!" Sully moaned as he and Davis watched the scene in horror, sprinting down the steps toward the road – they weren't going to get there in time.

"Oh my god," Bosco gasped. Michael was dressed in dark colors and was lying in the middle of the road – there was no way that the driver would see him.

Without a second thought, Bosco jerked himself forward, yanking his brother up to his knees and practically tossing him out of the vehicle's way.

He got there with just enough time to push Michael out of the way.

Michael turned his head at the sound of squealing brakes and a sickening 'thump', all anger forgotten as he watched his older brother's body fly across the hood of the car, the momentum carrying him up and over the hood before slamming his body mercilessly down onto the concrete.

He let out a strangled yelp as he crawled to his brother's side. "Mo? Jesus! Talk to me, Mo!"

"M'okay…m'okay, Mikey," Bosco rasped, struggling painfully to pull himself into a sitting position. No one was more surprised than he that he was still conscious.

By that time the driver had gotten out of the car, which happened to be a taxi.

"Is he alright? Oh God! I didn't see him!"

"Sir, I need you to step back!" Bosco recognized Sully's breathless voice and looked up just in time to see Davis fall on his knees next to him, his eyes wide and stunned.

"Bosco! It's alright man, just stay down 'til the bus gets here."

"I'm okay, Davis. Just a little scraped up," Bosco said tiredly, leaning his head back against the side of the car. "Just gimme a minute."

"Mo…I'm so sorry, man. I didn't mean for this to happen. I'm really sorry," his brother pleaded, eyes shining with tears.

Bosco just stared at him for minute. He was so damn tired that it seemed to override any pain or anger he'd previously felt. His little brother looked shaken, sitting in front of him on his knees, face covered with cuts and scrapes from their fight. Bosco was struck with guilt. If his mother was here, she'd be disappointed - crying probably.

He was the older brother. Michael was his responsibility. And he blew it big time.

Heart filled with regret, he held a hand out to his younger sibling.

"S'okay, Mikey. Help me up."

"Bosco, I think you need to wait for the medics, bro," Davis said with a frown.

He was ignored as Michael, convinced that his brother knew best, helped him to his feet.

Bosco stood slowly, grimacing at the pain in his side and swaying against his brother's arm. He caught Davis' questioning stare and rolled his eyes.

"I'm just a little bruised, alright? No big deal, man." He desperately just wanted to go home and sleep.

Sully walked over then, and tried to lay down the law. "Bosco, you were just hit by a car. You're not leaving here until you get checked out."

"Look Sul, I appreciate your concern. But I'm a big boy, and I know when I need to go to the hospital and when I don't. I'm tellin' you, I'm fine. I just wanna go home."

"I'll drive you," Mikey offered quietly.

"Huh. That's rich, coming from the guy who was beating the hell out of him just a minute ago," Sully responded sarcastically.

"Hey Sul," Bosco cut in angrily. "Mind your own damn business, okay?"

"Bosco," Davis said the name disapprovingly, staring at his friend in surprise and concern.

Bosco threw a hand up, dismissive. "I'll see ya later."

"You wanna press charges against this guy?" Sully called out irritably as Bosco made his way to the Mustang, leaning heavily on his brother.

"No!" Bosco retorted over his shoulder.

Sully and Davis watched as he stopped next to the driver's side door.

"I'm driving," he demanded. Michael looked up at him worriedly.

"Mo, I don't think -"

"Damn it, Mikey! It's my car!"

"Okay...okay..."

"Are we just gonna let him leave like that?" Davis asked his partner worriedly. "He can barely walk."

"What do you want me to do, Davis?" Sully replied angrily. "If he stayed for the ambulance, he'd refuse transport, and if he went to the hospital, he'd sign himself out AMA. If he wants to be stubborn, let him."

"Aren't you being a little hard on the guy, I mean...he just got hit by a car, man. And his mom was murdered. I'd say he's having a real shitty day."

Sully's eyes softened, but only marginally. "Let me tell you something, Davis. I've known Bosco for a long time. And he's not the kind of guy to let you help him even if he knows he needs it. Believe me. There's no sense in trying."

He paused. "The only one who's ever been able to get through to him is Faith."

"Should we call her?" Davis asked.

"What and have him pissed at us? He told us to stay out of it. Besides, she'll probably check up on him later, anyway. He probably just wants to be alone right now."

Davis turned to watch the Mustang pull slowly away from the curb, lost in thought and worried for his friend.

"Davis," Sully called gruffly. "Let it go."

Reluctantly, the younger officer turned and followed Sully back toward the house.

* * *

"You want me to drive?" Michael had asked uncertainly.

His brother looked awful. His was lip split a swollen, as was his eye, and he was holding himself like he was in pain.

"No, I'm fine," Bosco's voice was quiet and fatigued.

"You sure you don't need a hospital, bro?" Michael asked as his brother turned the key in the ignition.

"Mikey, I'm tired, alright?" Was his only reply.

It was a silent ride back to Bosco's apartment, the tension thick and suffocating.

As he watched his brother's, stiff, careful movements through the dim lights of passing cars, Michael wondered how he could fix all the damage that had been done.

It hit him like a brick – they were all they had now. All that was left of a shattered family. And Maurice had nearly been taken from him tonight, all because of _his_ anger, _his_ selfishness.

Michael Boscorelli was ashamed. Truly ashamed. Probably for the first time in his life.

Overnight, their lives had fallen apart.

One question remained – did they care enough to try and put the pieces back together?

_TBC_...

* * *

**A/N**: So whatchya thinkin'? :)


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